What a waste-
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon is spending a few weeks inspecting the U.N.C.L.E. prison facility in Antarctica known as Tartarus. It's a place where the worst criminals are sent, those who can never be rehabilitated. Many inmates are those who've attempted to subjugate the world through the most bizarre means. A response to an impromptu photo challenge on Livee journal. The cover pic is the prompt.


It wasn't like Napoleon Solo to skimp when it came to his personal grooming, but in this case letting his beard grow was a matter of warmth.

He was in the Antarctic, inspecting the facility known as Tartarus. It was a maximum security prison maintained by the U.N.C.L.E. where the most dangerous criminals involved in world domination or its destruction were kept.

It was an appropriate name, in Greek mythology Tartarus was the deep abyss used as a dungeon of torment and suffering for the wicked and as the prison for the Titans.

Though U.N.C.L.E. didn't torment or cause undue suffering at their Tartarus, they were humane in the treatment of their prisoners.

There were no hearings, no trials for these people. Once captured they were questioned, and if deemed incapable of rehabilitation, they were sent directly to Tartarus. Most were given a life sentence.

Some of their crimes included dowsing innocents with chemical weapons that caused them to commit suicide, attempting to plant nuclear weapons around the world for the purpose of blackmail*, changing the weather patterns to control the world**, more chemicals with the intention to affect the food chain and cause worldwide starvation.

There was even a group of men who'd managed to resurrect dinosaurs and control them with microchips in their brains, another intended to do the same with sea life…***all for the purpose of blackmailing and controlling the world in one way or another. Many were hairbrained schemes but some dangerous enough to threaten mankind.

These inmates believed in themselves and their inglorious plans to take over the world. They were egotists, megalomaniacs, and everyone a madmad.

Napoleon walked along the second level balcony, glancing in the glass enclosed cells. There were a total of fifty-seven prisoners, many of whom he and Illya had sent here.

Some glared at him, others ignored his presence; there was nothing they could do to get to him unless there was a complete systems failure in the prison.

"Not today," Napoleon snickered to himself,"not anyday, not ever." He had the utmost confidence in the facility and its personnel.

His inspection had taken weeks, checking the routine, talking with the guards, observing the inmates. Everything was under tight control, not a single issue.

And now, Tartarus was ready for its first female inmate. Lena Huang, aka the Dragon lady. She was THRUSH's premier agent, the template upon which the likes of Angelique and Serena had fashioned themselves.

Given her deadly reputation for seducing men into submission, Lena would be kept isolated from the male population here, as well as their guards. A special female guard unit had been set up...though who knew if they couldn't be lured by the woman's charms, only time would tell. Still there were backup plans in place, should anything go awry.

Napoleon finally arrived at receiving where the prisoner would arrive and be processed. He waited, tugging at the neck of his heavy knit sweater...a necessity here in the Antarctic.

The female guards lined up behind him, as the accoutrements for Lena Huang were set on a nearby stainless table.

Her orange prison overalls, personal items like underwear, a sweater, socks, shoes, blankets, bedding, a pillow. Laying atop all of this was a copy of the St. James bible.

The prisoners had access to a library of course, a small gymnasium, table tennis, chess and a few other activities, but the bible was a none too subtle hint for them to repent their sins before the day came when they finally met their Maker.

Periodically newspapers and magazines, though not current, would be sent in, but that was the limit to their access to the outside world, well that and weekly movies they were permitted to see. Nothing containing violence, to say the least. There were a lot of Disney cartoons, and musicals...

Psychiatrists and psychologists were on hand should any of the inmates feel the need for counseling, though given their behavior sometimes that counseling was mandatory. A full medical staff and infirmary were available as well to see to their physical needs...which happened often enough as some inmates had pent up frustrations at not being able to conquer the world, and disagreed with others as to whose methods were best; fights would often break out, only to be quickly squelched and the guilty parties dealt with.

In such a solitary place as Tartarus, there was still solitary confinement...

U.N.C.L.E. saw to it they were all comfortable, still it was their permanent isolation that was their punishment.

The doors opened and in walked two individuals wearing heavy parkas and mukluks stepped forward.

The person wearing a powder blue parka was first to remove his fur-trimmed hood, revealing the blond headed Russian.

"Illya," Napoleon nodded. "Everything went well I take it."

"You could say that, " Kuryakin pulled back the prisoner's hood, revealing a raven haired beauty who was sporting a rather fresh looking black eye.

"Tovarisch...you _didn't_?"

"Napoleon you forget, we do what me must to ensure an assignment is completed successfully. She resisted and it was necessary to put her in her place."

"But Illya, you hit a woman?" Napoleon's face scrunched up at the thought of it.

"Yes, she tried to...umm, seduce me among other things, into letting her go free just as our transport landed."

"Go free here in Antarctica?"

"I suspect she has friends on the outside waiting for her." Illya nodded.

Napoleon pulled his communicator,"Channel F- this is Solo, I want extra teams patrolling the perimeter of the prison. We may have some company lurking about out there. Shoot to kill."

"Yes sir Mr. Solo, I'll have the teams assemble immediately, Agent Galen out."

"Napoleon we meet again at last, oh and I like the beard. Very masculine and sexy!" Lena purred to him as her handcuffs and heavy parka were removed. Raising her arms to wrap them around Solo, she froze as four guns cocked and were trained on her.

"Can't a girl have a last fling, or even just a kiss?" She cooed.

"Not on your life," Napoleon said, as he took a step back from her.

The lead guard, a big woman named Helma Muëller, was a former Olympic shot putter and would take no guff from the dragon lady. All she had to do was sit on the prisoner and that as they say would be that. She wasn't fat, but was was quite muscular, and had a pleasant face.

"This way Fräulein," Helma said with a heavy German accent.

"Good to see you again Agent Kuryakin," Muëller waved to him.

"And you too Agent Muëller," He waved back. "Napoleon get your things ready, the transport will not wait for us forever."

"Got my bag right here," Napoleon picked it up and quickly put on his parka. He turned and watched as Lena Huang was escorted into the prison to begin her life of solitude.

"What a waste," he mumbled as he shook his head with a sigh.

"Napoleon, are there not enough beautiful women in the world for you, that you must pine after that one."

"Trust me, I'm not pining at all. Just a sad thing that's all."

"Sad that a woman who has murdered so many people, and many of them our agents, is spending the rest of her life here?"

"Nevermind tovarisch...you wouldn't understand." Napoleon flipped up his hood, covering his face, and thus ending that conversation.

As they walked from Tartarus a gust of snow blown snow hit the agents as they boarded their plane.

As they settled into their cargo net seats Napoleon let go a long winded sigh.

"I'll be glad to get to New Zealand. First thing I'm going to do is take a nice hot bath, shave off the beard, dress in a nice suit and go find a lovely bit of feminine companionship for the evening."

"Women are that important to you my friend?"

"As food is to you," Napoleon winked.

All Illya could do was shake his head. He settled in for the flight, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he closed his eyes.

"Soooo tovarisch, where do you know Agent Muëller from? Please tell me you didn't sleep with her?"

"Helma and I were assigned to work together in West Berlin back when I was still under the tutelage of Harry Beldon. And no I did not sleep with her, not that it is any business of yours if I did," Illya flashed a crooked smile.

Napoleon paused, cocking his head to the side. "No, you didn't…"

"Not open for discussion,"Illya mumbled. He curled up, turning his face away from Napoleon as the plane took off.

Solo on the other hand sat lost to his thoughts, a bemused smile on his lips as he imagined what pleasures might lie in his not too distant future...

* ref to "The 7 Cities Affair"

** ref to "Weather or Not:

*** ref to "A Monstrous Affair and The Pelorus Affair (respectively)

.

A/N; the concept of Tartarus was coined by GM aka Gina Martin and has become part of fanon.


End file.
